


Kidnapped

by AsheTarasovich (natalieashe), Boffin1710



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 006needslovetoo, 00Q - Freeform, 00Q00 - Freeform, First Meetings, M/M, Not a good man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 14:49:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12707148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/AsheTarasovich, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/pseuds/Boffin1710
Summary: First meetings make a lasting impression...





	Kidnapped

 

Q groaned and tried to stretch, his half-asleep brain believing he was in his bed, only to realised that his cramped position could not be adjusted because he was apparently in a carpeted box.

“Fuck!” He cursed quietly, as it dawned on him that he was in the boot of a car being driven god knows where at high speed. The car took a corner sharply and Q slid to the side wedging his head awkwardly into the corner.

“Ow! Fucking idiot.”

Forcing himself to wake as fully as the sedative would allow, he tried to recall his morning so far.

Shower, check.

Breakfast, missed.

Drive to work with coffee on his mind, naturally .

Be grabbed from behind by an unknown assailant and then...

Yes, this is where he came in, consciousness seeping back treacle-slow. Grabbed, hooded, and stuck with a needle, all inside Six’s supposedly secure car park.

The hood was clear of his mouth and nose, but it was still over his eyes, ready to be tugged back into place when they finally stopped. And then what?

Training had led him to believe that being blindfolded was often a positive thing. If they didn’t want you to see them, there was a chance they weren’t planning to kill you. He let that small comfort settle while he assessed his physical state.

Parched as the desert. All of his limbs threatening to cramp if he didn’t remain still. Other than the small throb at the site of the jab and the bump on his head from repeatedly sliding into the wall, he wasn’t in too much pain. Never the best traveller, however, the motion of the car was making him queasy.

“In a pickle,” he mumbled, clenching his mouth tight shut. He’d be damned if he added to it all by vomiting over himself.

Finally the car stopped. Still feeling weak as a kitten Q weighed his options. Escape was unlikely. Maybe he could talk his way out of it.

The boot was opened and the hood tugged down over Q’s face, then he was hoisted into his captor’s arms and tossed over his shoulder to be carried inside a building.

“I’m sure I can walk,” he spluttered. “It’s not like I can go anywhere.”

The man remained silent, settling his burden more securely.

“This doesn’t look suspicious at all...”

“And it’s not very dignified. For either of us.”

“You drive like a maniac by the way.” That at least earned an indignant snort.

Q was just contemplating vomiting down the man’s back to express his displeasure at being manhandled like a roll of carpet, when he was swung upright and into a chair.

“Thank goodness for that. Could have been messy.”

His captor ignored him, securing Q’s feet to the chair legs with zip ties. His wrists were bound in the small of his back and then his whole torso was tied against the chair back, wrapped in some kind of elasticated rope.

Only then was the hood whipped off and tossed into the corner of a brick walled room.

Q blinked several times. The room was dimly lit but after the total darkness of the hood it seemed bright. He was also missing his glasses, so the room, and the man he was certain was watching him closely, were all a blur.

“Ok. Now what?” Q thought he should probably shut up, but something about his treatment had banished fear and replaced it with stupid indignation.

“Christ, do you always talk so much when you’re kidnapped?”

The rough voice had a trace of an accent beneath the refined English tongue. Eastern European? Or Russian, maybe. He sounded amused, much to Q’s annoyance, but connections finally slotted into place.

“I wouldn’t know. This is my first time,” Q snapped, testing his bonds and finding them tight but not painfully so.

“Really? Excellent!” The man leaned forwards in his chair and tapped something against the table to his right. “I always enjoy a first time,” he snickered and Q rolled his eyes.

“I hope you didn’t break my glasses when you threw me in your car. And your boot smells like something died in it.”

“They told me you were mouthy.“

The man loomed over him for a moment and Q felt him place his glasses carefully on his face. Then, just to be an arse, he knocked them so they were annoyingly crooked and took up his seat once more.

“Highly amusing, Trevelyan,” Q growled, now glaring at the lounging, blond who was again tapping the table with a huge knife. Q smirked and nodded at it. “Compensating for something, 006?”

The man actually looked disappointed at being identified. “Who spoiled my surprise? I bet it was James. Arse.”

“I have made the acquaintance of six double ohs in the last five months, including James-bloody-Bond, who believes every conversation starts with an invitation to dinner. None of them thought an acceptable way to greet me was by kidnapping!”

“No imagination, my colleagues. He hasn’t fucked you yet then?” The agent scraped under his thumbnail with the point of the lethal looking blade. “I mean, best way to get him to stop chasing you is to let him into your bed. Soon loses interest after that.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer. I am his superior. Yours too.”

“So, is that a yes or a no?”

Q’s eyes narrowed. He hated gossip but he had heard the rumours that 006 and 007 were lovers. “Why are you so interested?”

“I’m not. Just giving friendly advice.”

“Inappropriate advice. And what is this all about anyway?” Q rolled his neck, trying to relieve the pressure in his shoulders.

“I wanted to introduce myself. Be more than a file of pertinent facts, psych statements, mission reports and test scores. I like my Quartermaster to understand me and what I need.”

The wolfish grin was back, self-assured, bordering on arrogant. In his eyes this was an acceptable way to achieve his aim.

“Restraints?” Q smirked. “I’d feel happier if our roles were reversed.”

Q had meant to imply Trevelyan should be the one in cuffs for his outrageous plan, but he realised the agent heard something quite different when his smirk turned predatory.

“I mean...”

“We’ll definitely have to come back to that one day,” Trevelyan chuckled, “but time is running short.”

He stepped behind Q with the knife and Q held his breath when he felt it slide between his skin and the zip tie. A moment later his wrists were free and the rope was being unwound from his chest.

“I suppose I just wanted to say don’t mistake me for a good man. I am loyal, but my methods out in the field can be brutal and cruel. I don’t charm, if killing is quicker.”

Q’s definition of a ‘good man’ was being revised on a weekly basis since joining the service. He rubbed his wrists to get the blood flowing again.

“You’re just like all the rest,” he said dryly. “You just want to be loved.”

The agent paused midway through freeing Q’s ankles and frowned up from where he knelt. Q fought the smirk that was trying to break free until Trevelyan sat back and let out a huge bellow of laughter.

“Oh Christ, you really are a little shite. You and I are going to get along just fine, Quartermaster. Don’t know why I doubted it.”

Q stood, stamped his feet and circled his ankles until he felt he could take a few steps without keeling over.

“Well, now we have reached our ‘understanding’ you can bloody well take me back to work.”

Trevelyan grinned. “Of course.” He opened the door onto a corridor and gestured for Q to move ahead. “Second door on the right takes you to the main lifts, or you can follow me up the stairs. See you later.”

And with that, the agent jogged away from his bewildered Quartermaster leaving him standing in the service corridor of MI6.

 

 


End file.
